


you and me and all we are

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Comedy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Sleepy Cuddles, i have lots of kuroken feels, kurokenmonth, one shots, prompts, romantic sappy stuff, slight AU, tbh there's gonna be lots of cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:55:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>here's my bundle of procrastination and unhealthy obsession with fictional volleycats... for kurokenmonth.</p><p>includes cat metaphors, video game allusions, experimental writing, sappy romantic bull, and above all, volleydorks in love.</p><p>prompts and additional tags in chapter summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. utterly, undeniably, hopelessly

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [pudding cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9424901) by [wrappedinchocolateblankets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrappedinchocolateblankets/pseuds/wrappedinchocolateblankets)
  * Translation into Polski available: [pora deszczowa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554054) by [wrappedinchocolateblankets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrappedinchocolateblankets/pseuds/wrappedinchocolateblankets)
  * Translation into English available: [nie chodzi o PSP](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554774) by [wrappedinchocolateblankets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrappedinchocolateblankets/pseuds/wrappedinchocolateblankets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Kuroo realized he was utterly, undeniably, hopelessly in love with his best friend, he walked into a wall.
> 
> [prompt: firsts]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of pining kuroo, have fun~

The first time Kuroo realized he was utterly, undeniably, hopelessly in love with his best friend, he walked into a wall.

“Are you... okay?” Kenma asked from behind him, sounding just the slightest bit concerned. His eyes were still trained on his phone though, so Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief that the younger boy wouldn’t see his pink-tinted face.

“Gee, when did they build a wall there!” he exclaimed as normally as he could. “Rude.”

He heard a soft snort from Kenma, and then the pinging on whatever latest game he’s playing resumes. They continued walking down the hallway towards the gym, but Kuroo found his eyes trailing to the second year beside him.

All of a sudden, that poorly-dyed blond hair had his fingers itching to run through it; that too-pale skin from gaming too much at night and hiding out in the summer looked soft and enticing; those familiar dexterous hands gripping the impressively well-taken-care-of phone filled him with the urge to reach out and envelop them with his own larger hands. It’s still the same Kenma that he’s always known, the Kenma that refused to get up in the morning like a lazy cat, the Kenma that lit up almost imperceptibly when presented with a new video game or a plate of apple pie, the Kenma that grumbled and moaned but followed him to extra volleyball practice on the weekends nonetheless. He’s still the same boy he’s been friends with since they were scrubby kids chasing each other in the park, and it’s not like Kuroo is suddenly hit with the epiphany that he wanted to---uh, do whatever couples do together---with Kenma, but somehow Kuroo couldn’t help being more _aware_ of his best friend.

It only got worse from there.

 

 

Kuroo found himself thinking about his best friend more often than he should.

Twirling his pencil during class, he'd nod along when the teacher glanced over at him, but really his mind was downstairs in a second-year classroom. He would start wondering (ironically) if Kenma was paying attention to his teacher, or if he was doodling cats in his notebook again. He would be thinking about what they should do after practice that day, whether they should go for some dessert at that new cafe or just chill at one of their houses before the teacher was suddenly standing right in front of his desk, frowning down at him disapprovingly.

When the lunch bell went off, the first thing on Kuroo's mind wasn't if the rooftop was free or even the debate of whether he should run down to the cafeteria to buy the last fillet sandwich before it sold out, but rather it was _did Kenma bring enough lunch today_ and _is he playing his game instead of eating it again._

In the clubroom, Kuroo would find his eyes drawn to the smaller boy, only to look away quickly at the slightest glimpse of that pale skin under his sweatshirt. It was dumb and strange because they’d literally seen each other naked before but for some reason Kuroo’s mind and body had now decided that seeing Kenma in anything less than a t-shirt and shorts would be a red alert.

Kuroo hated himself sometimes.

On the court, Kuroo tried his best to be normal, for the sake of the team and himself. It worked most of the time, considering volleyball was one of the only things in his life he devoted his entire heart to----the other being a socially anxious fake-blond childhood friend. He couldn’t deny it; he did spend a lot of his time worrying about Kenma and dragging Kenma around. But that’s what friends did. Their relationship had been like that since they were kids.

Unfortunately, Kuroo’s face took a couple too many volleyballs straight on after that sudden revelation he had the other day. Even Lev had asked him if he was feeling sick. Kuroo waved it off, making up something about exams coming up, but not before he caught the golden gaze of Kenma across the court. The setter didn’t say anything, though, so Kuroo assumed he was safe for a little longer.

At night, Kuroo’s mind refused to shut down until he had worked through every memory of his best friend throughout the day. Which, considering the amount of time Kuroo spends around Kenma and vice versa, was _a lot_. Every glance away from the phone, every minute of paying more attention to the phone than real people, every miniscule smile at gaining a new high score---they were all snapshots in Kuroo’s head. A gallery dedicated to his best friend. Kuroo went to sleep with a smile of his own, dreaming about volleyball, cats, and most of all, being right next to the second year setter, where he belongs. He woke up with heavy bags under his eyes and a growing seed of panic in his chest.

After a week of being aware that Kenma was on his mind 24/7 (and realizing with not-so-silent horror that this had probably been going on for longer than just a week), Kuroo decided that he couldn’t deal with this right now.

 

 

The second time Kuroo realized he really was in deep, sappy, understanding-the-songs-on-the-radio love with his best friend, he locked himself in the bathroom.

Kenma had stayed the night, as per usual seeing it was a Friday night and they usually headed to practice together Saturday morning. Kuroo had spent about another week in denial, carrying on as he always had. He went to class, forced thoughts of Kenma out of his head, went to practice, caught himself before he started going, _that frustrated frown when he’s serving to Lev is kinda cute._ He continued hanging out with Kenma after school, continued allowing the smaller boy to use his stomach as a pillow when he’s playing his PSP while he tried really hard to finish his book without turning into a firetruck.

He thought he’d finally gotten rid of that weird notion he had the other day, that he was freaking _in love with Kenma_ , pfft, ridiculous----only, this morning, after a night of talking about volleyball and the latest cat video/overnight internet sensation, he woke up to a defenseless, sleeping Kenma curled up against him like a kitten. Needless to say, his half-asleep self with a nonexistent guard immediately fell into the sappiest, romantic bullshit ever spewed on earth.

 _Gods, he’s beautiful_ , he’d thought, and then he sat upright, horrified. The pink floaty feeling was back. And it was stronger than before.

“Kuro?”

Kenma was up, knocking on the door. Kuroo sucked in a breath. He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. His mess of black hair was half-covering his face, which was good because he was sure it was still slightly pink. Gathering himself, he opened the door.

“G’morning, sunshine,” he sang, waltzing past the second year as quickly as he dared.

He didn’t miss the way golden eyes followed him. Kuroo’s dumbass behaviour with Bokuto might have painted a terrible picture of him, but Kuroo’s not stupid. He knew Kenma more than anybody, and he knew that Kenma was nothing if not observant. The younger boy probably already had an idea something was up. He hadn’t said anything to Kuroo yet though, which could either be a blessing or a curse, but Kuroo was glad for now. Especially since he had to sort through his own mess of a heart before working on what to do with Kenma’s. If he wanted to do anything.

This was why Kuroo had never wanted to join in on the whole shoujo romance thing Yaku and Yamamoto was going on about. It took too much effort and thinking and second guessing and _feeling._

Unfortunately, it looked like fate had a different plan for him, because here he was, sitting on his own bed with his best friend in the bathroom next door, and all he’s thinking was how nice it would be if he could just lie back down with Kenma in his arms, nothing to bother them for a whole day.

 

 

The third time Kuroo realized he was completely, helplessly, so very in love with his best friend, he decided he’d do something about it.

After his second revelation, he’d spent his time figuring things out on his own. He understood that all he did for Kenma was more than just an older brother looking out for the people he cared about. Because it was obvious that he loved Kenma. Kenma loved him too, in that aspect. But it wasn’t the same as being _in love._

And, Kuroo was starting to understand, he was _in love_ with Kenma. Which changed things. A lot.

So he spent some more time observing Kenma back. The younger boy clearly felt Kuroo’s distance and furious thinking. But, being as lazy and non-confrontational as Kenma could be, he still continued his policy of ignoring things until it became too big to ignore. Kuroo practiced volleyball, spiking all of his best friend’s tosses, teased the first years on that fresh-faced team from the countryside, messed about with Bokuto. He bid his time, but in the end, he knew what he wanted.

He wanted Kenma to like him back.

But how, was the question. He wasn’t even sure if Kenma _could_ like him back that way. It wasn’t just a matter of sexual orientation or whatever the heck, it was more like----he’d spent all these years with the kid and he’d never seen Kenma feel anything stronger than inwardly squeeing when he took him to Akihabara for a whole weekend. He knew that Kenma wouldn’t hate him for confessing, but he was doubtful as to whether the impact of such a gesture would amount to---well, anything other than a shrug.

And then, in entered that shrimpy kid from Karasuno.

For the first time since he could remember, Kenma’s eyes lit up with fire of his own accord, for something other than video games. It was an amazing feat, being able to rouse Kenma up so much he was looking forward to a _volleyball match._ Kuroo knew, because he’d tried. For the first time in his life, Kuroo was jealous.

Unconsciously, he had distanced himself again. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to do, and probably would have done something regrettable if Kenma hadn’t finally had enough and cornered him in the gym after everyone had left.

“Kuro.”

He put the last volleyball into the trolley before turning around. The second year was standing a few feet behind him, the light from the gymnasium ceiling lighting up his face in all his glory. Kuroo must have been super tired or something, because for a moment there he seriously had the thought that Kenma was like an angel of volleyball here to bless him.

“Kenma.”

Kenma sighed at his innocent tone. His golden eyes flicked away for a second, but that was a familiar gesture, and Kuroo knew it meant he had something important to say. He waited, albeit a bit nervously.

“If you have something to say to me, just say it.”

Kuroo’s lips twitched, because of course Kenma wouldn’t waste time beating around the bush. It was an endearing trait of his, as terrifying as it was now. Kuroo wasn’t ready, he didn’t know if he would ever be ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait forever.

“What if what I have to say would ruin what we have between us?” he said, stalling for time.

Kenma looked at him. “It won’t,” he replied simply.

Kuroo laughed. He ran a hand through his messy mane. He looked back at Kenma, meeting his expectant gaze. He took a quick breath. He dived.

 

 

“I like you.”

“I know.”

“I mean, I _like you_ like you.”

“I know.”

“...You know?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, then. We good?”

“Yes.”

“... Good.”

“Mm. Let’s go home.”

“Right.”

 

 

The first time Kuroo confessed to his best friend, he didn’t think anything much had changed.

And he was fine with that, honest. Kenma was the type to take things slow, and Kuroo knew this. He was willing to wait.

A couple days went by with them being the same as they ever were. Walking to school together, spending time alone together, leaning against each other and falling asleep on each other. Kuroo continued reminding Kenma to eat his lunch, to wake up in time for morning practice, to buy him his special apple pie. Kenma continued to toss to him, to listen to his recount of whatever hilarious thing Bokuto had told him, to follow him wherever he wanted to go. But both of them were aware of the things that went unsaid between them, of the things that were said, and the implications those words held.

When Kuroo first decided to spill about his feelings, he didn’t expect anything to happen right away. He wasn’t even aware that his words and feelings had any effect on Kenma at all.

(But they did. Oh, they did.)

 

 

The first time Kuroo realized that his best friend was also truly, irrevocably, doubtlessly in love with him, he grinned so wide, his cheekbones started to hurt.

They were lying next to each other on Kenma’s bed, breathing steady and slow, ready to fall asleep. The smaller boy was curled up next to Kuroo, familiar and warm. Kuroo’s mind was half-dreaming about pulling his best friend closer, but his body was now trained to ignore his head’s delusional fantasies. He nearly thought it was a part of his fantasies when Kenma suddenly whispered into the dark. Then he realized that even his dumb imagination couldn’t come up with something so genuine, so beautiful, so perfect----

_“I’m in love with you, too.”_

 

  
The first time Kuroo fell in love, he was lucky enough to be loved back.


	2. it's not about the PSP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first big fight the Nekoma volleyball team can remember them having, and the distance between their captain and setter is starting to get on everybody's nerves.
> 
> "Kuroo, what the heck did you _do_?"
> 
> [prompt: firsts]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know where i was going with this. if you can figure out what their "fight" was about, kudos to you.

The Nekoma volleyball team knows that something has happened as soon as their captain and setter walks into the clubroom. If it isn’t the clear with the way Kenma positively _stomps_ across the room to his locker, it is obvious with the sheepish expression on Kuroo’s usually smirking face.

“What the heck happened?” hisses Yaku at Kuroo when Kenma leaves with the first years.

“What do you mean?”

Yaku gives him a look.

Kuroo raises his hands. “Okay, fine. So I may have accidentally pissed Kenma off. It’s fine, he’ll get over it.”

Just then, as Kuroo opens the door to the gym, a volleyball comes sailing over and smacks him right in the face. Yaku stares up at him in concern, before glancing over to see Kenma watching impassively.

“... This might take a while.”

 

 

After a disastrous practice with Kenma obstinately ignoring their captain and Kuroo trying desperately to gain their setter’s attention, the Nekoma volleyball team has about had enough. Even Lev and Yamamoto  has managed to pick up on the rift between the two. They clean up quickly and quietly, whispering to themselves about what to do. When the two in question leave the clubroom for the day (separately, the horror), they gather around in a circle reserved only for emergency team meetings.

“We should lock them in a room together!”

“No way, Lev. Kuroo would never live to see another day again, and Kenma might end up in jail.”

“Write them each a note telling them to ‘meet me in the courtyard’?”

“Inuoka, you’ve been reading too much shoujo manga.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until they resolve this themselves?”

“Kai-senpai, that’s diplomatic and all, but what if it never happens?”

“What if they fight forever!”

“Our team is doomed!”

“Everyone shut up!” Yaku puts his foot down before everyone can start freaking out. “We don’t even know why they’re fighting. Or if this is even that big of a deal.”

“Kenma _spiked a ball into Kuroo’s face._ It’s a big deal, Yaku-san.”

“They have fought before, surely.”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone furiously tries to think of a time when the notorious childhood friends duo on their team had such a quarrel.

Finally, Yamamoto snaps his fingers triumphantly. “That time when Kuroo got them lost in the subway stations for our monthly meetup!”

Kai nods, adding, “Or when Kuroo woke Kenma up at five o’clock on a Saturday. We don’t have morning practices on weekends anymore.”

Shyly, Yuuki raises his hand. “I remember once when Kenma got upset at Kuroo-san because captain left Kenma’s phone charger at home.”

Yaku pipes up, “Last week when Kuroo didn’t have enough money to buy Kenma the apple pie he promised him at lunch.”

The team nods, relieved that they managed to think of other circumstances where the inseparable pair weren’t so perfect after all. Then Lev speaks up.

“Those aren’t really fights, though? It feels more like captain-san messing up and Kenma getting mad at him.”

“But this is the first time I’ve seen Kenma avoid him so much. Normally he’d just give in as soon as Kuroo promised him more apple pie or a new video game.”

Yaku frowns. “Kuroo must have done something stupid again.”

“Why don’t we see what happens tomorrow, and then decide if we need to intervene?” suggests Kai. “It might be all solved tomorrow.”

The rest of the team murmurs an agreement. They pack up for the day, hoping their captain and setter will work it out between themselves soon. They have another practice match coming up soon, after all, and they need both their brain and heart in order for the team to flow smoothly.

 

 

The next day arrives, but unfortunately, the tension between the captain and the setter seems to have only gotten bigger overnight.

The rest of the team watches them enter the clubroom separately and change without looking at each other. They hover nervously at Kuroo tells them to run laps, while Kenma resolutely taps away on his phone in the corner. They glance at each other anxiously when Kenma’s tosses go awry, and Kuroo pretends he doesn’t notice. The distance between the two is so strange to see it’s beginning to creep on everybody’s nerves.

At lunch, Yaku plants himself down next to Kuroo’s desk. “What the heck did you _do_?”

Kuroo looks up at him innocently. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, and Kenma, and how you two seem to be pretending the other doesn’t exist and it just isn’t right, Kuroo.”

The taller boy sighs. “Look, I told you. Don’t worry about it, it’ll blow over soon. I think.”

“You do know we have a practice match at the end of this week? The whole team is weirded out by whatever’s going on between you two. Just spill, what did you do to Kenma?”

“Alright, jeez, no need to sic your scary mom look on me.” Kuroo runs a hand through his hair, glancing at his desk for a moment. “It’s really stupid, and I swear I’ve apologized like a million times already but---okay, okay, calm down---anyway, I might have accidentally, stupidly, uh, broke Kenma’s PSP.”

Yaku is stunned speechless for a moment. “You---what? How are you still alive?”

“I don’t know man. But honestly, it wasn’t on purpose and I even offered to get him a new one this weekend but it was just----god, even I knew how stupid it was--- like, we were in his room, you know? Hanging out, playing games, and then things got a little hot and heavy, yeah---don’t make that face, Yaku---anyway, I guess Kenma was really in the mood, for once, or something and somehow we fell over and I got pushed backwards and I forgot he left it there and then there was just this---really bad sound. So I stopped right there, you know, snapped right out of the mood and everything, and apologized.” Kuroo lets out a breath, cringing at the mere memory of the incident. “But now Kenma probably wants to kill me or something.”

Yaku shakes his head. “I can’t believe you, Kuroo. How dense _are_ you?”

“Excuse me? Ugh, help me, Yaku, what if Kenma’s actually plotting my murder?”

“I doubt it, Kuroo.”

Kuroo  allows his head to fall onto his desk. “I know,” he says, his voice muffled. “Tell the team don’t worry, I’ll fix this before the match, okay?”

Yaku sighs. “Fine.”

 

 

The third day seems to be a little better. Kuroo and Kenma both arrive together, which the team nearly cheered out loud for. However, on the court they are still on opposite sides of the net---literally.

Yaku looks meaningfully at Kuroo, who grimaces back. The third year libero sighs to himself, but he can only trust his captain on his word. He decides to just focus on volleyball for now, and hope the two will sort it out on their own.

Unfortunately, certain wing spikers seem not to have the same plans, because the next thing he knows, Lev and Yamamoto have dragged poor Kenma into a corner.

“Kenma, just forgive captain-san already! Look at how sorry he is!”

“Yeah, Kenma, this is the longest you guys have fought, and it’s seriously freaking us out.”

Kenma stares at them unimpressively. “We’re not fighting.”

“What? You totally are! You’ve been ignoring him!”

The sighs quietly. “Can I go now?”

Yaku manages to reach them before collateral damage takes place and they make Kenma cry or worse---piss him off even further. He knows first hand how terrifying the kid can be when angered.

“Back to receives, you two!” He aims a kick at Lev for good measure. When they yelp and head back to the courts, he glances at Kenma. “Are you still mad at Kuroo?”

Kenma shrugs. “It’s not really his fault.”

“Then why don’t you make up with him?”

Kenma frowns slightly. “Because Kuroo’s dumb.”

Yaku can’t argue with that. He doesn’t have a chance to reply though, because Kenma walks away and on the other side of the gym Lev has managed to team up with Inuoka with a stupid challenge that will definitely result in injured bodies. Yaku sprints.

 

 

The clubroom is full of awkward silence as they change. Kuroo and Kenma are still standing too far apart and the boys aren’t sure what to do about it. They’re a bit tired of watching them dance around each other due to some unexplained tension, though. Some of them resort to desperate measures.

Yamamoto and Lev glance at each other, nodding. They nudge Fukunaga, who flashes them a thumbs up, and Yuuki, who nods a bit nervously. Then, as soon as their jackets were over their shoulders, they move as quickly as they can, filing out of the room and grabbing whoever they can on the way. Lev physically lifts Yaku off the floor before he can protest.

Once the whole team minus Kuroo and Kenma are outside the clubroom, Yamamoto slams the door and locks it from outside. He yells, “We’re not letting you out until you guys make up! It’s for your own good----and the team!”

When Yaku finally manages to kick Lev in the right spot to be let down, he growls. “What the heck did you do that for?”

“So they can resolve their fight, Yaku-san,” explains Lev, nursing a bruise on his shin. “Good friends shouldn’t fight for so long over a broken game.”

Yaku stares at him. Then at the rest of the team, who are nodding along. He facepalms. “Oh my god, you guys, they’re not--that's not--ugh. Never mind. Let’s just go.”

“Huh? But we have the key----”

“Trust me, they might... take a while.”

 

 

“Looks like we’re stuck in here for a while.”

“Mm.”

“Are you still mad at me? I told you I’d replace your PSP this weekend----”

“I’m not mad, Kuro.”

“Oh. Okay. You should’ve said so.”

“...”

“...”

“...Kuro.”

“Yes, Kenma?”

“Come over here.”

“... Yes, Kenma.”


	3. nostalgia avenue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But now things will change. Kuroo’s not going to be around all the time anymore. Kenma won’t be able to walk home with the taller boy, he won’t be able to eat lunch with him and the other third years, he won’t be able to text Kuroo to come over when he’s feeling down. Things will be different.
> 
> They’re not kids anymore.
> 
> [prompt: childhood]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why there turned out to be so much dialogue?? or so many words??   
> tbh i just kinda wanted to vent bc moving out is scary and being an adult is scary and cleaning up my room turns into a trip down memory lane always

“Why do you have so much stuff,” huffs Kenma as he drags a cardboard box across Kuroo’s half-empty room.

The older boy’s room looks strange without clothes hanging everywhere and books and games lying around. Now, instead of the usual mess there are boxes and organized piles and plastic bags---even Kuroo’s bed is bare. Nekoma’s former volleyball captain is finally moving out, after eighteen years of living in the same place. For some reason, Kenma is forced to help with the packing.

“Hey, that’s my life you’re throwing around.” Kuroo catches the stuffed cat Kenma throws over his shoulder. He sets it down carefully into a box. “It’s sort of fascinating, though, isn’t it? To see all these pieces and fragments of Kuroo Tetsurou. Ah, a free trip down nostalgia avenue.”

Kenma blinks at him. “It’s always a free trip down nostalgia avenue.”

“Let me have my moment, won’t you, Kenma.”

They continue to sort things into piles of ‘keep’ and ‘store away’ and ‘donate’ and ‘to bring’. There isn’t much noise between the two of them, and since the house is empty on account of Kuroo’s parents running an errand, but it isn’t unusual for the two of them. Ever since that one fateful afternoon when Kuroo’s volleyball rolled down the hill and hit Kenma, they’ve been used to such dynamics between them; sometimes Kuroo’s rowdiness has Kenma hanging on like a rollercoaster ride, and sometimes they’re just quiet next to each other. No matter what it was, as long as they’re with the other, it was fine. Comfortable. Familiar.

But now things will change. Kuroo’s not going to be around all the time anymore. Kenma won’t be able to walk home with the taller boy, he won’t be able to eat lunch with him and the other third years, he won’t be able to text Kuroo to come over when he’s feeling down. Things will be different.

They’re not kids anymore.

“Hey, look at this.” Kuroo pokes Kenma until the pudding head turns around to face him. He’s holding up a small lumpy-shaped thing made of string and yarn. It looks sort of sad, all squished and uneven, but what Kenma makes out (after several seconds of just blinking at it) are two whiskers on either side, two mismatched button eyes, and two slightly more pronounced lumps on the top.

“A... cat?”

“Yeah! You made it for me. When we were... I don’t know, eight, maybe?” Kuroo looks absolutely delighted, grinning down at the lumpy cat in his hands like he just found the ultimate treasure.

“I did?”

“Yes. It was the first ever gift you gave me. You stayed up all night and even asked my mother for help. I thought I’d made you upset or something, you were avoiding me for a whole week.”

Kenma blinks. He doesn’t really remember putting in so much effort, but the little handmade cat does seem familiar.

 

 

(“Kenma! Play with me!” Kuroo twirled the ball in his hands, grinning at his friend and neighbour.

“I don’t want to,” came the usual monotonous reply. Kenma’s golden eyes peeked out at him from behind a half-open door. “Go away, Kuroo.”

“Why? Come on, it’s sunny, you don’t wanna stay inside playing games all day!”

“Yes, I do. Bye.”

The door slammed shut in his face, and Kuroo blinked. Even though he was used to having to needle his friend into joining him under the sun, he’d never been outright refused this way before. He wondered what he did wrong. Maybe Kenma was having a bad day? Well. He’d try again tomorrow.

Except Kenma didn’t want to play for the next few days. Kuroo was starting to feel lonely. He’d asked his mother what he did wrong, but she only smiled at him, which he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what had happened with Kenma, but he wanted to fix it. He liked Kenma, and didn’t want his friend to stay mad at him.

He gathered enough change to buy a slice of apple pie from the nearby bakery, and carefully brought it back home. Since it was his birthday today, he wanted to spend it with his friend. So he knocked on Kenma’s door, apple pie in hand. This time, the door opened, and instead of Kozume-san, there stood Kenma.

“Kenma! Hi! I---are you--- I mean, I brought you this!” He thrust the apple pie at Kenma, who just stared at it. Kuroo fidgeted, wondering if he did the wrong thing, again.

Then Kenma reached out his hand as well. “Here,” the eight year old blurted. “I made this. For you. Happy birthday.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened at the small, clearly handmade cat in his hands. He looked back up at Kenma, who was staring at the ground, his cheeks dusted pink. A grin spread across Kuroo’s face. “Thank you, Kenma.”

Golden eyes flicked up to meet black ones. “You’re welcome, Kuro,” Kenma replied softly, a small smile on his face.)

 

 

Kuroo drops the cat into his box of ‘take with’. Kenma frowns at him.

“Why are you taking that with you?”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows at him. “Because it’s special. It symbolizes our beautiful friendship, don’t you think?”

Kenma blinks dubiously at the ugly little cat. “Not really.”

“Well, I do, and it’s my box, so there.”

Kenma rolls his eyes.

They resume sifting through Kuroo’s things. It’s quiet again until Kenma breaks the silence. He places a figurine in front of Kuroo.

“What is this?”

“Ah. Remember that time in middle school when we went into that store in Akihabara? I bought that.”

“... Why? You hate anime.”

“I don’t _hate_ it. I just don’t have time for it. And, okay, I just liked the way it looked, that’s all.”

Kenma glances down at the figurine, a slender girl with long, dark hair, dressed in a typical maid outfit, holding a cake. He gives Kuroo a flat look. “Is this your type or something?”

A slight pink tints Kuroo’s face and he swipes the figurine out of sight. “No, okay? It was just a whim.”

“... Really?”

 

 

(“Five more minutes.”

“That’s what you said five minutes ago.” Kuroo groaned slightly, following Kenma through the store. He couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to go with Kenma today. But he was here, and he couldn’t very well leave an eleven year old on his own, could he?

He was trailing Kenma down another aisle when something caught his eye. It was one of those typical figurines of a ‘sexy’ girl or something, Kuroo couldn’t really see the appeal, but something about this one struck out at him. He wondered if it was the eyes, the wideness and sharpness and the sort of yellow-ish colour that made it look like it knew all your secrets...

 _Oh my god, it looks like Kenma_ , he thought, a bit horrified but also a bit---he didn’t know, excited? But why? He felt a bit weird.

He glanced around, but Kenma was preoccupied where the games were. He checked the price. Then he grabbed a box and made his way to the counter. Whatever. If anyone asked, he could say it was his type of anime girl or something. He didn’t even know what show she was from.

When Kenma asked what he had bought, he shrugged and pointed out a dessert shop next door.)

 

 

“Really, Kenma. Just forget it.” Despite his words, Kuroo carefully places the figurine in his box of ‘store away’.

Kenma shrugs, turning back to his section of the room.

Not five minutes have passed before Kuroo is making an excited noise again, holding up a battered notebook. “Remember this?”

Kenma scrunches up his nose. “Why do you have that?”

“It’s special! It contains all our secrets and stuff!”

“We were like, ten, Kuro. We couldn’t even write half the words we wanted to and had to use hiragana to spell it out.”

“That’s what makes it special, Kenma. Like a sort of code.”

 

 

(Kenma lost his voice due to a cold, but Kuroo had a solution. After school, he proudly held up a new notebook.

“With this, we can communicate!”

Kenma furrowed his brows at him. Kuroo could understand the look in his eyes meant, _We’re communicating just fine._

“No, but see? You write in this, and I can write back. Like letters.”

Kenma still looked skeptical. Kuroo decided to show him how it worked. He flipped to the very first page, uncapped his pen, and wrote down at line. Then he closed the notebook, and placed it in Kenma’s lap. He also handed him a pen. He motioned with his hands, like _go on_.

Kenma sighed, but picked up the notebook. He opened the page. He blinked at what Kuroo wrote.

_You’re my very best friend in the whole wide world!_

Kenma smiled.)

 

 

“It ended up just being filled with games of tic-tac-toe,” comments Kenma, peering over Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but it was cool, eh?”

“Mm.” Kenma turns back to his box, and pulls out a giant photo album. He hands it over to his friend.

“Wow, this is a while ago.”

Kuroo flips it open, and Kenma settles next to him. They look at all the pictures spanning from when they first met to entering high school. There are a lot of photographs, since Kuroo’s father loves his camera and loves his kids (the Kuroo family had always considered Kenma as part of the family) even more. Kenma doesn’t even remember when half these photos were taken.

“Heh, look at this one. You’re actually smiling.”

The picture Kuroo is pointing at is one taken when they were probably around six and seven, summertime, running around at the park a block over. Kenma can sort of remember that day, his parents had allowed him to go along with the Kuroos for a picnic. In the picture, Kuroo is grinning unabashedly, one hand holding up a peace sign outstretched towards the camera and the other wrapped tightly around Kenma’s smaller hand. Kenma’s face is for once not hidden by his dark mop of hair, but rather smiling towards the camera. They look young, fresh, happy.

 

 

(“Tetsu-chan, Kenma-chan, look over here!”

The two kids halted in their running around, chasing after the butterflies surrounding their picnic blanket. They looked over at where Kuroo’s dad was waving at them, his face half hidden behind his big Canon.

Kuroo spins them around to face the camera lens pointed straight at them, his grin wide and brighter than the afternoon sun. Kenma watched his face for a moment, just plain mesmerized, because yes he’d seen his friend laughing and smiling before but for some reason he’d never really realized just how radiant his friend’s smile could be.

“Kenma, look at the camera!” Kuroo pointed ahead, urging his smaller friend to do the same. He grabbed his hand, and aimed his grin at the camera.

“Alright, ready? One, two...”

Kuroo dragged Kenma closer, baring all his teeth in a gleeful grin at his father’s camera. Kenma followed his example, encouraged by the sun and warmth coming from his small hand enveloped in Kuroo’s slightly bigger, more calloused one.

“...Three! Say cheese!”

It was the best day of Kenma’s life so far.)

 

 

When they’ve flipped through all the photographs, Kuroo closes the album and places it neatly into a box. He leans back against his bed, all straight edges and wood now that his personal bedding is all gone. His eyes shut for a brief moment, but a small smile remains on his face.

Kenma watches him for a moment, struck again by how easy and sunny his childhood friend’s smile can be. Then he crawls over, and sits himself in Kuroo’s lap. He leans his head against Kuroo’s shoulder----when did his shoulder become so broad?

A hand comes up to hold his head. Familiar fingers run through his not-really-blond-anymore hair. His head moves as Kuroo adjusts his body to accommodate the extra weight.

“This is it, isn’t it,” he says, sighing softly. “I’m finally here.”

Kenma nods against his shoulder. “You made it. Congrats.”

Kuroo laughs quietly, his upper body bouncing slightly. He stops when Kenma makes an annoyed sound. “I’m gonna miss all this, you know? My whole life is here. All I’ve ever known.”

Kenma stays quiet. Kuroo wanted his moment, didn’t he?

“Kids sure grow up fast, huh?”

Kenma turns his face into Kuroo’s shirt. “I’m going to miss you.”

A hand pats his head. “Hey, you’re still gonna see me like, every other weekend. And we can Skype any time you want, yeah?”

Kenma hums. “Wait for me.”

“Yeah, Kenma. Like always.”

“... Can we stay like this for a bit?”

Kuroo nods, allowing his cheek to land on Kenma’s head. “As long as you want.”


	4. just close enough to touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five centimetres.  
> That is the distance between Kuroo's hand and yours.
> 
> [prompt: distance]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd person pov, sort of timeline fic, no warnings i don't think

Five centimetres.

That is the distance between Kuroo’s hand and yours.

Never closer, never farther, always just five centimetres apart. Close enough to reach out and touch, yet far enough to stay still and wish upon a star. That’s the way it’s always been, and the way it should be.

Just five centimetres.

 

 

The first time you notice the distance, you were ten.

Kuroo’s been a fixed presence in your life for about four years, barging in one day without warning and armed with a volleyball. You’ve never had a friend before, always too shy and hiding behind your mother’s legs, but somehow this slightly bigger kid with hair even bigger than his golden heart is different, and you’re not on your toes because you want to run away, but rather because you want to run after him.

It’s after another round of exhausting volleyball, which you’re starting to understand takes a lot more effort than just slapping the ball with your palm. Having received one ball too many to the face, you complain to Kuroo to stop, and he complies for once without trying to persuade you to “One more toss, Kenma!” You’re both sitting on the grass, under the shade, when you notice.

Kuroo is sprawled out next to you, guzzling water sloppily and noisily. He chatters on about school, about joining a volleyball team together, about dinner, anything. You’re scrunched up next to him, but you’re not touching.

It’s not like you’re alarmed or upset that he’s not touching you, it’s just something you take note of. Kuroo’s a physical person, has been ever since he reached out that first day and dragged you by the arm into his backyard to toss the ball around. You’ve seen him with his friends, roughhousing and highfiving and shoving each other around. He likes to hang his arm around you when he comes up behind you, he tends to ruffle your hair when you point out the obvious, sometimes he leans against you to make you look up from your game. When Kuroo is familiar with someone, he uses physical contact to show it.

This time, however, he sits five centimetres away from you. Barely a hand’s width, and yet somehow it feels like a mile. It’s not like you think it’s a big deal, it probably just happened without any thought at all, and you don’t say anything. You doubt Kuroo even noticed.

But you remember. Those five centimetres. They stay with you in the back of your mind, where it’s dark and murky and all sorts of tangled, but filled with messy black hair and a crooked smile, something you consider familiar and warm and constant.

 

 

When Kuroo enters high school, you’re still stuck in middle school.

You feel more exposed with him gone, even though he’s really only just a couple blocks over. But there’s no one to sit with at lunch, and your volleyball teammates don’t really count as friends. They don’t really talk to you without Kuroo there, anyway.

He still walks to school with you part way, and he still invites himself over to talk about his day and play video games and help you with math. You still have to fend off his chopsticks piling more food into your bowl when he stays for dinner and you still end up falling asleep on him in the middle of a movie.

But he talks about his classmates you’ve never seen, his new teammates you don’t know. He still answers your texts with amazing speed, but somehow you feel less inclined to share your thoughts than before. It isn’t that he stopped paying attention to you (you don’t think that will ever be possible for him----not because you’re confident that you matter but because you’ve both been together for so long, if one of you is missing the other feels it like a phantom limb). Maybe you’ve been relying on him more than you thought you were.

Sitting on the couch one night, watching an age-old favourite movie, you once again notice the distance between you. His arms are on the back of the couch, leaning back until his long legs are stretched beneath the coffee table.You’re close enough that if you lean your head back just a five centimetres, you’d be on his arm. You’re close enough that if you tilt your body just five centimetres, you’d be leaning against his chest. You’re close enough that in just five centimetres, you’d be right where you’ve been all those times before, but for some reason, you can’t do it.

 

 

Those five centimetres hang in the back of your mind like clouds waiting to open above. They swing in your dreams, in your daydreams, in your too-early mornings waiting for your phone to be fully charged.

Sometimes you wonder if Kuroo’s noticed it yet. Because your best friend might be a lot of things (provocative, mischievous, annoying, stubborn, kind, considerate, loyal) but he isn’t dumb. He’s always the first to point out your plummeting mood or your growing anxiety and he’s always the first to offer you an excuse to leave the party early or just stay home for the day. Eventually, he’ll figure things out and _notice_ , and you’re not sure you want him to just yet.

Five centimetres. That’s all that sits between the things you and Kuroo cannot say and cannot breach just yet.

Sometimes you wish the distance would move. Become greater, become smaller, anything but be stuck frozen, that little yet infinite space between the two of you that you cannot define.

But stay it does. Just five centimetres.

 

 

When you enter high school, the distance appears to shrink, just a little bit.

Kuroo pulls you back into the team spirit, or as much as you can handle, anyway. You, unfortunately, are new blood and are told to do the dirty work. You hate it. You hate it even more than whatever weird atmosphere was hanging between Kuroo and yourself only a couple months ago.

But you stay.

Because, while you’re running after stray volleyballs and trying to keep up with a new class full of strangers, you’re aware of Kuroo standing next to you on court. You’re aware of him waiting for you outside the changerooms, you’re aware of him walking home with you, you’re aware of the five centimetres between your hand and his as you walk down the street. And, slowly, you begin to think that maybe the distance isn’t that far after all.

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t either. He still ruffles your hair and bumps your shoulder to gain your attention. And sometimes it feels like he leans against you for a second more than he used to, like he hovers near you for a second longer than he needs to.

Five centimetres. Perhaps, if you could just gather the courage to breach it----

 

 

In your second year of high school, you meet Shouyou.

For the second time in your life, you make a friend of your own accord. Kuroo notices this, and one night he plops right down next to you on your bed to congratulate you. You look away, unsure what the look in his eyes mean. It’s only when he stands to head back home to sleep that you realize he was sitting farther than he used to.

You spent the last twelve months ignoring the centimetres between you. He never gave any sign of being aware of the spaces and how they keep shifting, but you don’t know if that means he doesn’t think of it at all or if he’s just hiding what he’s thinking. It’s only during training camp that you realize the distance is growing again.

You listen to Shouyou babble with his sunny voice about “stupid Bakageyama, he owes me so many meat buns!” and you nod along, because while Karasuno’s setter scares you just a bit, you like how animated Shouyou becomes when he’s talking about him. Those two are close, perhaps even comparable to how close you were with Kuroo, which is surprising considering Shouyou admitting they barely knew each other. The distance between them, you muse, is maybe three centimetres.

When you look up as a force of habit, your eyes do not catch on a particularly tall and messy bedhead. You’re not too worried, because as close to the hip as you two are, you are two different people after all. Yet when it keeps happening throughout the week, Kuroo disappearing with his loud strange-hair buddy and Fukurodani’s setter and that tall middle blocker from Karasuno, you stare at the space between yourself and your best friend and you think, _It’s growing._

 

 

Five centimetres remain between your futon and Kuroo’s.

He sleeps on his front (which can’t be comfortable, but he does that squashing pillows against his ears) and falls asleep so quickly you’re almost envious. Instead, you stay up listening to everybody’s steady breathing around you and your eyes find the tip of Kuroo’s hair sticking up.

You splay your fingers apart, stretching your hand just off the edge of your futon. In the dark, your eyes trace the distance between your cold fingers and the warmth of your friend sleeping next to you.

Five centimetres never felt so far.

 

 

When you return home, Kuroo is still by your side.

He whistles lightly, carrying his bag over his shoulder and looking ahead. He’s always looking ahead. Except when he reaches back to grab hold of your hand to drag you along to whatever great adventure he’s set on.

You realize he hasn’t grabbed your hand in a long time.

Lifting your eyes away from your phone screen, you glance down. His left hand is empty, swinging gently next to you hip as he walks. You count. Five centimetres. It’s so short and it hasn’t felt this short since before you left for training camp. You glance back up at Kuroo’s face. He’s facing the setting sun, all vibrant and loose and so very familiar and you understand that he was never far away. He’s been here all along.

You close your eyes. You reach out.

 

 

Five centimetres.

That is the distance between Kuroo’s hand and yours.

It’s felt closer, and farther, and so very difficult to cross. That’s the way it’s always been, but slowly, surely, you close the distance.


	5. pudding cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is like a cat.
> 
> [prompt: cats]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy since i've already written something like trashcat kuroo, have some pudding cat kenma

Kenma is like a cat.

His eyes are the exact shade of gold that light glints off in a mesmerizing way, especially in the dark. They’re sharp, intelligent, and incredibly observant. Kuroo can practically hear the cogs turning behind them. They track movements on the court, on a digital screen, wherever it is, with terrifying accuracy.

Sometimes Kuroo can swear those eyes stare right through him, as if they can see his very soul. It's terrifying, but also strangely thrilling.

Kenma likes to wander off.

They'd be walking along, Kuroo humming under his breath and Kenma on his phone, when all of sudden Kuroo would glance next to him, behind him, but his little pudding headed shadow is gone. Those are not fun times. Kuroo would be running around panicking at worst case scenarios because while his best friend is definitely smart, he isn't exactly great in unfamiliar territory.

When Kuroo finally finds Kenma, the boy would blink at him with those wide golden eyes and saying, _What took you so long?_

For such a brilliant volleyball player and student in general, Kenma is amazingly lazy. He hates mornings with a passion. The alarm would go off once, twice, three times and still Kenma would continue to burrow into his warm cocoon of blankets. Kuroo has to physically yank the younger boy out of his or else he'd sleep past the bell. If Kuroo doesn't automatically invite himself over to ensure Kenma has company and would show up for practice,  he thinks the younger boy wouldn't even have tried to create a social life.  There's nothing wrong with that, but sometimes Kuroo wonders if Kenma gets a little lonely. That's why he's sort of the dumb cat owner, sticking out his hand towards the pudding head even though there are scratches on his hand from previous unsuccessful attempts.

Kenma dislikes being told what to do.

Whether it's his parents or senpai or friend; Kenma doesn't really show it, but inside he is grumbling and lamenting. He will still cooperate, but eventually will slink off to some deserted corner where he will pull out his game or just take a nap. Kuroo is often volunteered without his consent to deal with this behaviour, so he has developed a sort of sixth sense for Kenma's hiding spots. Getting the boy to come out of hiding, however, is a different matter altogether. (Kuroo admits more often than not they end up scrunched up next to each other under a stairwell, dozing off and pretending to forget the trouble they will be getting into).

Kenma sleeps like a cat.

When he finally settles down for sleep, after hours of fighting high definition dungeon bosses, he'll shuffle around in his covers and pillows until he is practically buried beneath them, and still he will scrunch his body and continue to burrow himself until he is all curled up and warm. Kuroo has lost count how many times he has woken up to a warm and yawning Kenma snuggling against his chest, pressing his face closer into him without even opening his eyes. Eventually, Kuroo becomes used to it, but not before freaking out many times because Kenma! Is! So! Close! and freaking cute, at that.

It happens not only when Kenma is done with battling for the night, but also during afternoons, when it’s just the two of them, on the couch, under the tree, in the bedroom. Sometimes it might even be when they’re with their friends or teammates. When it becomes all quiet and lazy and slow, drifting sunlight, Kenma will casually crawl over and dump himself in Kuroo’s lap, or just lean against him, eyes closing so defenselessly.

Kuroo becomes used to this, too.

When it comes to territory and possessiveness, Kenma also reacts like a cat. It may be surprising and hard to tell if you are not close with the boy, but Kuroo knows his best friend up and down and sideways. Kenma never physically or forcefully takes back what he believes is his, but he shows his stubbornness in other ways. The quick darting of golden eyes that follow when Kuroo steps out of sight, the small tug on the back of his shirt when he starts getting carried away with Bokuto or the like, the miniscule frown on the pudding head’s face when Kuroo takes away his apple pie before dinner. These are all the little things Kenma can’t hide, but Kuroo accepts that as a part of him, too.

Kenma is hard to approach.

If you’re trying to become close to him, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you. Kuroo has experienced this first hand, days and weeks and so much of his pocket money in exchange for the latest video games sacrificed just so he can proudly introduce Kenma to other people as “my bestest friend ever!” It’s not that Kenma is antisocial, he just doesn’t know how to express himself most of the time. And sometimes he is just cold, and dark, and even Kuroo cannot tempt him out of his shell. That is alright, too, because Kenma likes his space.

Sometimes Kuroo can’t tell what’s going on in that pretty little mind of his, and it scares him. Because if even Kuroo, the one closest to Kenma’s heart (or, at least, that’s what he’d like to believe) cannot decipher the younger boy’s distant thoughts, then who ever will? Who ever will be able to reach this cat-like boy, this beautifully enigmatic boy, this quietly compassionate boy, this boy that holds Kuroo’s whole and beating heart in his hands?

But once you make is past Kenma’s steel exterior wall, he will shower you with that beaming, warm attention that is so quiet you just might miss it. He shows his appreciation and understanding and care in small ways: remembering the little details you let slip in a conversation ages ago, sharing his apple pie with you, pausing his game to listen to your problems. Whenever he does this, Kuroo feels again just how special and grateful he is to have a friend like Kenma. Because while Kenma might knock him down a couple notches with his cool logic and blunt comments, the pudding head also builds him right back up with his extended hand on the court, with his pink-tinted cheeks as he stutters out some embarrassing line from some manga because he wanted to make Kuroo feel better, with his soft muffled laughter as he clings on to the bigger boy and never lets go.

Kenma is like a cat.

And Kuroo is most definitely a cat person.


	6. not just yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is just one secret Kenma is keeping to himself.
> 
> [prompt: secrets]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh... mention of asexual character?? sort of??

Kenma shares everything with Kuroo.

Okay, maybe not _everything_ , but most things. It's been that way since their friendship was established. Food, teammates, sleepover futons, clothes. It helps that they live in such close vicinity to each other. They spend so much time in each other's houses Kenma used to think he had two homes.

It became such a habit to just reach over and grab the half finished water bottle Kuroo is holding towards him, to just take Kuroo's sweater home with him even though he isn't cold anymore, that not even the occasional _Are you dating?_ comments from their peers bother him anymore. He knows that other people's definition of "childhood friends" don't exactly add up to the nearly nonexistent space between Kuroo and Kenma, but it's just how their relationship works.

Ever since it became apparent that Kenma's anxiety isn't ever going to go away, the older of the two has been Kenma's confident in pretty much all aspects of his life. What he can't tell his teachers, parents, never mind peers, he tells Kuroo. The older boy doesn't ever pry or make him talk when he doesn't want to, but he listens with rapt attention Kenma bet his teacher would cry to see. Kuroo's voice is naturally loud, and he's an expert at making conversation, but Kenma knows his deepest darkest secrets are always safe with him.

There's just one secret Kenma is keeping to himself.

He doesn't know when or where it started. It might have been suddenly, like Kenma's suddenly levelled up and unlocked the ability to notice his best friend in this way. Or (more likely), it's always been there, in the background, like afternoon sunlight, warm and comfortable on his skin, slowly changing shades until it's already twilight, and Kenma only notices when a cool breeze caresses his cheek, awakening him from his daydream. Regardless of how it happened, Kenma knows it's there now, he can't unsee it, and even worse, he knows that if he voices it out loud, he can never ever take it back.

Over the years, Kuroo has accumulated a treasure trove of Kenma’s secrets, and vice versa. Whenever Kenma wavers over a decision, the first person he seeks advice from is his best friend. When Kenma was still trying to figure things out, his personal boundaries and his triggers, Kuroo was the first to know. When Kenma spent hours clicking through pages on his laptop and finally worked up the courage to confess aloud how he’s never been interested in sex and believes he probably never will, Kuroo was the one that heard him. All of Kenma’s insecurities, triumphs, brutally bare truths, he has given to Kuroo, trusting his friend to keep locked safe somewhere.

This trust he has also extended back to Kuroo, and his friend uses it just as boldly as he does. He knows all of Kuroo’s real thoughts and intentions hiding behind that smirk of his. He knows that Kuroo can’t swim and is afraid of what he can’t see in the deep dark depths of the deep end. He knows all of his friend’s pet peeves, favourites, and most honest wishes. If his teammates could hear what Kuroo admits in the confines of their room, they’d see their captain in a complete new light. For Kenma, however, it’s just another side to his friend that allows him to better see the complete picture.

They share everything, which of course means they can read each other easier than those porn magazines Yamamoto stashes in the corner of their locker room. Kenma’s eyes are trained for the smallest twitch across the volleyball court, but he knows, just as he knows how to breathe through his nose, that Kuroo’s eyes are equally good at picking apart the smallest shift on his face. He knows that even as he continues to act as though nothing is wrong, as though his _entire world hasn’t just shifted off its axis_ , eventually Kuroo would notice and address what he cannot find the courage to do so. And when that time comes, Kenma wouldn’t shy away. He’d face Kuroo with all he has to offer, no shame, no humiliation, nothing but laying himself bare, just like with any other secret.

So, why then, does Kenma not bring it up himself?

Sitting on Kuroo’s floor with the back of his head against his friend’s legs, Kenma turns it over and over in his head just like countless times before. He glances away from his gaming device, up at Kuroo’s face. The older boy hums to an old song from the radio, expression serene as he flips the pages of his latest book. It’s a familiar sight, and Kenma sighs softly to himself. Like this, he is content. And like this, as he turns his eyes back to the digital screen, he will keep this last secret to himself just a little longer.

There is just one secret Kenma cannot tell Kuroo, not yet--- that Kenma is in love with his best friend.


	7. rainy season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Kuroo thinks Kenma lives in the rainy season.
> 
> [prompt: seasons]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, this was sort of a blah/vent fic of sorts bc i live in a rainy city and my mind kinda rains just as often and i don't think i wrote this very well but
> 
> trigger warnings for depression?? it's not specified though

Kuroo sometimes thinks Kenma lives in the rainy season.

Not like, literal rain clouds that follow his childhood friend around, but more of a metaphorical lingering grey. Kuroo's got nothing against rain, usually, since he grew up in a city that the rainy season visits for a couple months every year. He knows then to bring an umbrella everywhere he goes, and to always have an extra towel in his bag in the inevitable event that Kenma or himself gets wet. Unfortunately, the rainy season that makes a home out of his friend is something he cannot ward against.

Sometimes Kenma's eyes go all dim, a dull amber that refuses to shine, and not even Kuroo's incessant poking and nudging can bring the boy back from wherever he is. These times scare Kuroo much more than he lets on. Usually, Kenma is quiet and hard to socialize with, but somehow he always manages with Kuroo; the small nods, the slow blinks, the barest hints of a smile. But when the rainy season hits, it is as if the heavy clouds have clogged up his friend's mind and dragged him under to a place Kuroo cannot ever touch, cannot ever follow, and that frightens the third year more than any injury on court.

There's never any warning. With weather, Kuroo is conditioned to know clouds rolling in the distance means dressing warmer and grabbing an extra sweater for his absent-minded friend, but with Kenma's own storm clouds, there's no preparing or predicting. It comes and goes in wild intervals, sometimes lasting for a dreadfully long period and sometimes as quick as a summer flash storm. One moment Kenma is following behind him with his phone playing tinny music, and the next his friend is staring into space, the quiet around him heavy as gravity, colder than winter. Kuroo knows there is absolutely nothing he can do when the rainy season strikes, so he keeps his own quiet and offers Kenma his hand. He does what he does best: stay.

Usually when these clouds hover around the second year's mind, it is a slow, still coldness, if not numb and heavy. Sometimes, though, the rain comes down hard and relentless, almost violently, and Kuroo fears it might just wash his best friend away. He sits next to Kenma like always, leaving just enough space between them so Kenma can draw back if he wants to, but also so the boy knows that he isn't going anywhere. Kenma tries his hardest to hold the darkness in, keep the icy words from hitting Kuroo, but sometimes they still slip through. In the beginning Kuroo had stayed away, unable to ignore the jabs and jibes Kenma threw at him, but then after the rainy season eased off, he realized Kenma would distance himself further, for fear of harming his friend more. Kuroo finds he doesn't want that. Instead, now, he allows the words to slide past him, and opens his arms when the cold threatens to swallow Kenma whole, when the only thing keeping Kenma from drowning in his own rainy season is the meager warmth that Kuroo can offer.

Sometimes Kuroo hates the rainy season for taking away his Kenma. It hurts him to see the darkness eat away at his friend, the clouds that fogs his mind so much not even his handheld games garner more than a tired glimpse. It hurts him to hear the soft sniffles Kenma can't hide against his shoulder, to feel the slight dampness left over after the smaller boy's head has rolled off to the side after he's cried himself to sleep. Sometimes he hates the rainy season so much he finds himself shaking and cold as if the rain itself has seeped through his own bones. But he knows it is a part of Kenma, just as Kenma is a definite part of Kuroo, and Kuroo is determined to accept that as well. It just isn't always so easy.

The rainy season isn't always a monster. That isn't to say it's anything good or beautiful. No, far from it. Sometimes they end up curled up on Kenma's bed, the smaller boy's head resting in the crook between Kuroo's head and shoulder, and his arm wrapped securely around him. They don't talk much, as Kenma is drifting between awake and distant rain, but Kuroo is okay with remaining his friend's anchor. This usually happens when the rainy season is about ready to depart.

When the clouds dissipate into mist and lift from Kenma’s mind, Kuroo can always tell, because those familiar eyes of his childhood friend are back to that bright, sharp gold that he loves so much. They don’t talk about it, not after the first few seasons. Kenma follows Kuroo to practice as usual, and they walk home together as usual. But Kuroo would hold out his hand wordlessly, and Kenma, just as silently, would reach out and take it. And it’s enough.

Kuroo sometimes thinks Kenma lives in his own rainy season. But, as with every rainy season, it will always, eventually, fade away. 


	8. five touches kuroo and kenma share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intimacy, in the form of physical contact, comes easy to them.
> 
> [prompt: touch]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the shortness of my recent additions and also for the inconsistency and shitty quality, but registering courses for uni is its own hunger games and preparing for prom is like ???
> 
> anyway, i'll probably come back to this and add more one day bc kuroken = lots of cuddles
> 
> tw: blink and miss it mention of child abuse

one: hands

This is the most common touch shared between the two of them. It began as a habit from when they were children, chasing after each other in the neighbourhood park, and then stumbling and the taller boy having to wrap his hand around the smaller boy’s hand to keep the tears at bay. It sort of stuck after that, walking home after dark, dragging Kenma along in a busy intersection so he doesn’t wander off. Their hands gravitate towards each other so often it’s almost become a subconscious thought. There’s almost never a gap between them when one hand is reaching for the other, or when one hand stretches to catch the other’s sleeve. It’s familiar, it’s firm, it’s reassurance.

Kuroo’s hand is bigger than Kenma’s, just the perfect size to envelop the slender agile fingers. Kenma’s fingertips, contrary to popular belief, are calloused with endless years of quiet setting and gaming. Kuroo’s, on the other hand, are rough and tough from years of slapping the ball onto the floor, from carrying both his and Kenma’s bags. But these hands fit together just right, and that’s all that matters.

 

 

two: shoulders

Kuroo often throws his arms around Kenma’s shoulders, all casual-like, but Kenma knows what it really means. He’ll look up from his phone and pay attention, not really minding the extra weight despite his aversion to any other physical contact. He knows Kuroo knows that, which is why when Kuroo’s arm works its way around his shoulder, it means the bigger boy needs him to focus, or there’s danger around them, or maybe Kuroo’s just feeling a big protective again.

Kuroo’s shoulders are broader, and harder to reach. But when they’re sitting side by side on the couch after dinner, a rerun of an old comedy gold playing softly on the tv, Kenma can just lean his head over onto Kuroo’s shoulders. The bigger boy will shift slightly, until they’re both comfortably leaning against each other, eyes drifting closed, breathing soft. Like this, the feeling of Kuroo’s shoulder underneath Kenma’s chin, fitting just right and steady, it’s not so hard to fall asleep after a long day.

 

 

three: foreheads

This one is for comfort more often than not. When Kenma is sad, and goes to hide in his little corner with his handheld devices, Kuroo always manages to follow him. Not that the pudding head resists all that much. When the older boy tracks him down, he doesn’t demand Kenma to get back on his feet, he doesn’t demand anything. He just sits down in front of Kenma, and gently, so gently, he presses soft lips to Kenma’s forehead. Like that, the quivering ball of discomfort growing deep in Kenma’s gut lessens, just the slightest bit.

Sometimes, when Kuroo invites himself over, and they’re both sitting up in Kenma’s room, Kenma returns the gesture. The older boy won’t admit it, but there are some silences that hold too much suffering that one just cannot mask. This used to happen way too often when they were young, until Kuroo’s father finally made Kuroo’s mother leave, taking away all her violent bitterness and the bruises that used to line Kuroo’s ribs. Kenma hadn’t minded the company, as his own parents were often away from home. So when Kuroo is sitting next to him, all quiet and staring blankly, he puts down his gameboy and leans forward slightly, until he can kiss Kuroo’s forehead, telling him _It’s okay_ in fewer words.

 

 

four: legs

As they grew older, and their limbs longer, their legs often end up a tangled mess by morning when they wake after yet another sleepover. This never feels strange to them, however. There’s a certain warmth and solidness to knowing there’s another person right there, pressed against you.

When Kenma is stretched out on the couch after a long practice, Kuroo would easily lift his legs until he can sit on the cushion. He always places the smaller boy’s legs back on his own lap. They pass time like this, trading light conversation and just living in each other’s presence.

When Kuroo is leaning back against the wall with his latest novel in his hands, Kenma would lay his head on the older boy’s lap, continuing to beat his high score on his phone. Familiar fingers would come to run fingers through his messy hair. It’s comfortable enough to want to drift off. And sometimes he does.

 

 

five: lips

This is new. It’s soft and warm and sometimes wet but mostly sweet, hesitant pressing forwards and slight shifting to reach a better angle. They don’t really know what they’re doing, it doesn’t come as easy as the rest of their touches go, but then again, this is not a force of habit, built upon years and years of boundaries and second chances and friendship. But it feels like floating on clouds, losing control on Rainbow Road, and landing a point in the opponent’s side of the court all at once.

They explore.

 

 


	9. in the dark dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lights go out. Kenma can't find his phone. Kuroo's very warm.
> 
> [prompt: light]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um yes title was trying to reference fallout boy and no it doesn't have anything to do with the song
> 
> idk i'm really tired and kenma's apparently super sarcastic and kuroo's apparently very snarky wow they deserve each other
> 
> warnings: uh, couple of f-bombs?

“Kenma, move over.”

“Unnh.” Kenma shifts his body slightly to the left, sliding his head down until it’s mushed at a slightly uncomfortable angle against Kuroo’s shoulder. He can still see his phone screen, though, so it’s all good.

“You’re going to hurt your neck,” Kuroo informs him, using his elbow to shove Kenma’s head upright again.

Kenma dodges the hand that tries to smooth down his staticky hair, eyes still locked on the screen before him. Kuroo sighs next to him. It isn’t long before they’re settled back next to each other on the couch, comfortable silence between them again. An old sci-fi movie playing on the tv while empty dinner plates rest in front of them on the coffee table. Just a typical Friday night for the two of them.

“... Kuro.”

“Mm?”

“What are you doing.”

“Watching the movie, duh.”

“What is your hand doing.”

“Mm?”

Kenma turns his flat expression towards Kuroo, who chuckles lightly, but doesn’t remove his hand from Kenma’s leg. Kenma rolls his eyes. He turns back to his game, tilting his head as Kuroo leans towards him.

“Come on, pay a little attention to your boyfriend, eh?”

“I’m trying to beat a high score,” Kenma mutters back. He keeps his eyes trained on the flashing screen, but even he can’t suppress the tiny shiver that travels down his spine when Kuroo’s lips ghost over his collarbone.

“Let’s play a different game, Kenma.”

Kenma makes a small sound of protest, but his phone is gently pulled out of his hands when the terrible GAME OVER flashes across the screen. He doesn’t try all that hard to reclaim the device, as it certainly makes it a lot harder to think when Kuroo’s lips are tracing the skin just under his throat, and the heat of the bigger boy’s weight on his own body is distracting, to say the least. They fall into another familiar routine of slow, soothing exploration of each other, lightly toeing boundaries and greedily leaning in closer.

And then the lights go out.

“... Kuro?”

“Mm. Still here.”

“The power went out.”

“... I know.”

“... Shouldn’t we do something?”

“...”

“Kuro.”

Sighing, Kuroo detaches his face from the crook between Kenma’s head and Kenma’s shoulder. He sits back up, and dimly, Kenma can just make out Kuroo’s hair messier than before. Kenma’s suddenly grateful for the dark because Kuroo’s hair. Because of his hands. Running through them. When they were making out. On the couch.

Thank gods his parents aren’t home.

“Let’s get some flashlights?” suggests Kuroo, standing up. Slowly, with hands outstretched, he makes his way to the window. “Looks like it’s the whole block. Wow, I can see the stars for once.”

Kenma shifts on the couch. He’s not afraid of the dark, not anymore, he just gets kind of... antsy. But it’s not like the darkness will hurt him. He reaches out a hand, patting around for his phone. Where did Kuroo put it...?

“Hey, Kenma, do you know where your flashlights are? Or candles?”

“... No.”

There’s a brief silence, where Kenma doesn’t need proper lighting to know Kuroo’s giving his general direction that _Are you fucking with me?_ face he usually reserves for Lev.

“You fail as a person living in this apartment.”

Kenma doesn’t bother responding. He slides a bit off the couch, still searching for his phone. His phone can provide light, if he can just _find_ it...

“I’ll try the kitchen---”

“No!” The half-strangled protest leaps out of Kenma’s throat before he can punch it back down. He thanks the dark for covering his definitely red face now, full of humiliation and shame and gods, what was he, five?

“Uh, why?”

“Because---I, um.” He bites his lip. He knows it’s silly, but he can’t help it. Kuroo won’t laugh at him, because Kenma has just as much blackmail against the older boy, but it’s still difficult to admit the truth. “I. Well. It’s, um... it’s dark.”

“... Yes, Kenma, the power went out. That’s why I was going to find some light for us.”

“No, but it’s... _dark_.”

There’s another brief pause, in which Kenma can almost hear the gears in Kuroo’s head turning. He can practically hear the _ping!_ as a lightbulb goes off in the other boy’s head.

“Are you, uh, scared? Of the dark?” Kuroo’s voice sounds genuinely curious, and concerned. Kenma doesn’t know what he expected. “No offense or anything.”

Kenma shifts, his hand still frantically searching for his phone. Which seems to have dropped off the face of earth when Kuroo took it. He’s going to have to kill Kuroo. After the lights come back on and he doesn’t need his boyfriend to keep him from becoming a shivering puddle of irrational fear.

“We can just sit. In the dark. If you want.” Kuroo has meandered back to the couch, and the cushions sink as he sits down. “Though wouldn’t having a light source be better?”

“Shut up.” Kenma can hear the smile on Kuroo’s face, and it makes him sort of want to smack the boy, but also sort of want to kiss that smirk off his face. His face is definitely on fire.

Gods bless the dark.

“Just speaking the voice of reason, my friend.”

Kenma almost leaps in fright before he realizes that the new pressure around his waist is familiar warmth, coming from Kuroo. The other doesn’t say anything, just casually drags him closer to his chest, resting his head on top of Kenma’s poor dye job. Out of habit and an admittedly dire need for contact and comfort, Kenma leans back into Kuroo’s embrace, and sighs to himself. The little knot that was forming in his gut loosens just a bit.

They stay like that for a while. All quiet, just the slight tick of a clock in another room keeping them company. Their breaths come slow and steady, and Kenma nearly falls asleep to the familiar rhythm. Kuroo holds him, running his hand soothingly up and down his arm, and it’s good. There’s nothing scary about the dark at all.

Finally, after what seems like a peaceful eternity, Kenma shifts his legs, trying to curl up closer to Kuroo, but his foot connects with something. He leans over, grabbing at the floor, and--- yes! He found it!

“What are you---oh, fuck!” Kuroo’s arms disappear, which unfortunately takes away the extra warmth, but Kenma can see now. Kuroo’s arms are shielding his eyes from the bright light of Kenma’s phone screen.

“Sorry.” Kenma taps at his phone.

“Jeez, warn a guy next time...” Kuroo settles back against him, stretching to fit his chin on Kenma’s shoulder. “... Are you serious.”

“Mm.”

“Kenma. We’re in a power outage, you were shaking because of the dark, and now you’re back to playing your game?”

“Mm.”

Kuroo sighs. “You’re amazing.”

Kenma’s lips twitch, but his eyes don’t leave the screen. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

He leans back slightly, wriggling until he deems himself comfortable, wedged between Kuroo and the couch. The bigger boy sighs again, but there’s a small chuckle to go along. He returns his strong arms around Kenma’s waist again, and they settle back on the couch, in their familiar, comfortable silence. Almost like a typical Friday night for the two of them.


	10. the tale of the mage and how he found his knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is a guildless mage that dislikes loud people. Somehow, he manages to save a loud, messy-haired, ambitious young knight. Then a monster attacks them. Good luck, Kenma.
> 
> [prompt: au]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't played rpg games in so long why did i decide this was a good idea
> 
> tw: mentions of blood/violence

Slowly exhaling a long, exhausted sigh, Kenma lowers his staff back to his side. The small meadow under the goldmine is now full of knocked-out hogbunnies, each one steadily poofing into thin air, leaving behind clumps of coins and the occasional drop item. He throws back his hood, shaking his messy blond hair out of his face as he strides forwards to collect the winnings from his latest kill. It’s not much, but these low-level kills don’t deplete too much of his energy while gaining him experience, which is good enough for him. It’s Shouyou’s fault for cancelling on their plans to go into the dungeons this afternoon anyway. All for that scary new mage in town.

He’s examining a reddish lump that looks suspiciously like a half-bitten radish when a shuffling noise behind him causes him to stiffen. He tightens his grip on his staff, spinning around to scan the area for any threat. This area isn’t supposed to contain any high-level bosses, but the occasional monster does get lost from time to time and have been known to take other adventurers by surprise. Kenma’s only a mage, and while he has managed to up his stats more than other people gave him credit for, he’s still alone and not at all prepared for a real attack by an actual monster.

He’s preparing to just make a run for it when his eyes catch sight of a dark blob to his right, close to where the entrance to the mine is. It isn’t moving. After a second more of debating, Kenma cautiously ventures closer. He holds his staff out in front of him. If all else fails, he can always whack the thing over the head. It’ll allow him a few seconds to flee at least.

When he pushes aside the tall grass, his eyes land on the dark blob that turns out to be a man, passed out face down on the ground. He’s not moving. Kenma glances around, but there’s nothing and nobody else around. He looks back at the person on the ground. He’s dressed in dark garb, but fitted tighter than Kenma’s own loose robes, and made of tougher material, made for protecting against hard hits, close combat fighting. There’s also a giant sword slung across his back. A knight, then. He must have come out of the goldmine, and from a nasty encounter with some sort of monster in there, judging by the staggering trail of blood and green ooze behind the prone body.

“Mmmrf.”

Kenma jumps back, startled by the sudden groan. His wide eyes stare at the knight, who doesn’t make another peep, lying still once more.

Kenma glances around again. There’s still nobody around. He glances back down. He sighs. Deciding an unconscious man, even if he is at least a head taller than himself, can’t possibly do him any harm, Kenma carefully places his staff on the ground. He bends to roll the knight over. Catching a glimpse of the knight’s face, he realizes the person is actually closer to his own age than he thought. He also has a terrible wound on his shoulder. Kenma sighs. He presses his hands together, summoning his healing skill, and gets to work.

 

**[*]**

 

“Mmmng.”

Kenma looks up from his new gadget that he purchased in town last week, with all the coins he managed to save from some very painful party quests. Kenma doesn’t really like questing with a party because he’s always put on support, which isn’t bad in itself since he is a mage after all, but then his party members always seem to make ridiculous demands as if it hasn’t occurred to them that Kenma is only one person and can’t heal people when they’re standing _fifty metres apart_ , like honestly, you’d think being a level 25 adventurer one would figure out that healing circles only extend so far. Recently, he’s been adventuring with Shouyou and his friends, which is slightly better, except they’re a little too loud and now Kageyama is apparently a package deal with the orange-headed bandit, which really puts a damper on Kenma’s mood because the young raven-haired mage is the scariest thing he’s seen since that giant elephant-spider down in the dungeons.

The knight is blinking open dark eyes, taking in his surroundings slowly. Since Kenma can’t possibly carry the guy on his own, the mage opted to just wait until the knight is conscious enough to move his own body.

“Am I dead?” The knight’s voice is deeper than Kenma expected, but instead has a lilting quality to it. Kenma stays still as dark eyes land on him. “Are you an angel?”

Kenma frowns. “I’m only a mage.”

“Ah.” The knight sits up, wincing only slightly. He rotates his shoulder, looking down at it with mild surprise. “I’m assuming you were the one that healed me?”

Kenma nods. “It might still reopen though.”

“Thank you.” The knight sounds sincere, at least. He blinks at Kenma. “I’m Kuroo, by the way. Level 30 knight. What about you?”

Kenma blinks back. “... Kenma.”

“Kenma what?”

“... Level 32 mage.”

“Whoa, really?” Kuroo straightens, looking Kenma over appreciatively. “That’s amazing. I’ve never met such a high level mage before. Where have you been all my life?”

Kenma glances away, not sure how to take that. He should be used to such bold statements, seeing as he hangs around Shouyou and his frankness all the time, but this one is borderline flirting. Which is terrifying, to say the least. “Um, if you’re fine now, I’m just going to, uh, leave...”

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t go.” The knight reaches out a hand, and then withdraws when Kenma leans away. “I mean, hey, we just met each other. Why don’t we continue to get to know each other, hm?”

Kenma blinks at the boy’s smirk. “I need to go back to town. My friend is looking for me.”

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

Kenma frowns to himself. It is a long way back to the nearest portal, and the sun is setting. He picks up his staff. “Come on, then.”

 

**[*]**

 

Their walk back down the hill is quiet.

Kenma keeps a small distance between the knight and himself, just in case. There isn’t really anything suspicious about the boy, other than that annoying smirk on his face, of course. He’s certainly a lot better behaved than other knights Kenma has the misfortune of meeting, even offering a hand in helping Kenma cross obstacles in their path. He wonders why the knight was in the goldmine alone.

“So what were you doing on that hill alone?” asks Kuroo.

Kenma glances up at him. The knight’s looking back down at him with his lazy smirk, but his dark eyes are sharp and more perceptive than his messy hair gives him credit for. Kenma glances away. “Hogbunnies,” he replies simply.

“Ah, looking for special drop items?”

Surprised the knight knew that hogbunnies often drop pretty rare items, Kenma nods.

“So did you find any?”

“Not this time.”

“Better luck next time then.” Kuroo pauses to hack at a bush in their way. He gains a small berry. He immediately turns to offer it to Kenma, who shakes his head. “But you’re a mage, why are you out wandering about on your own?”

Kenma sends him a small glare. “I’m not _weak_.”

Kuroo holds up his hands. “Okay, I never said you were. It’s just, most mages don’t bother trying to adventure alone. You’re the first mage that I’ve met that travels alone, without even a pet.” He grins slightly. “You’re a special one, aren’t you?”

“... Not really.”

Kuroo laughs. He doesn’t say anything else for a couple minutes.

Kenma squints into the distance. The portal is somewhere across the river. They’ve still got a long way to go, considering Kenma doesn’t exert more energy than he has to, and Kuroo’s still technically healing from an injury. “Why were you in the goldmine alone?”

Kuroo glances at him, surprised. “Ah, I was... completing a quest?”

“Alone? In the goldmine?”

Kuroo lets out a sheepish laugh. “Okay, yeah, I know that wasn’t the smartest choice. But it’s not my fault the rest of my party decided to just suddenly call it quits. I really needed to obtain that gold horn, okay?”

“... Did you get it?”

“The horn? You bet I did.” Kuroo presents a tiny gold horn from his pack. Kenma nods appreciatively while Kuroo grins. “I went through so much trouble for this baby. Now I can finally use it!”

“Use it for what?”

“Well... It’s a long story.” Kuroo lifts the gold horn to the fading sunlight. “See, my best bro, Bokuto? You heard of him? He runs that guild Fukurodani. He’s probably one of the best knights in town, actually, stats way up the roof---though to be completely honest, half his attack power is because of that mage of his, Akaashi, who basically stops him from being killed on a daily basis. Bless that kid.”

Kenma blinks, taking the information in. He never really paid attention to guilds, because they are usually loud and occupied most pubs and public areas in town at night, also always managing to take up the inns Kenma wants. He’s been invited to a few guilds, but he never accepted on account of not being good with other people. Lately Shouyou keeps bugging him about joining that new fledgling guild with the crow on their flag, but Kenma’s pretty sure that’s only because Kageyama’s intent on joining. He _has_ heard of the Fukurodani guild though, only because they manage to take down the big bosses with only a couple of strategically timed hits. Also because of the guildmaster’s wild hair. Almost as wild as the knight beside him, actually.

“Bokuto keeps bragging about how good they are and how awesome Akaashi and his teamwork is, and while I agree, it’s honestly beginning to get on my nerves. So, I decided to do the logical thing, and hunted down every boss I could defeat, and with this last one, I’m just about ready to----”

Just as Kuroo is finishing the sentence, a sudden roar above their heads causes them both to freeze. Kenma’s eyes widen as Kuroo glances over at him.

“Bearboar!” They yell as a huge shadow falls over them both. They spin around, but the monster is already rearing its big ugly head and crashing towards them. They run.

“I thought this area wasn’t supposed to have that class of monster!” Kuroo shouts as he jumps over a log.

“It’s not,” answers Kenma, huffing as he tries not to trip over his robes. He really should buy new ones that won’t _kill him before the monster can_. “It must’ve gotten lost!”

“Goddammit, I hate this world,” groans Kuroo, grabbing Kenma by the arm when the mage nearly goes down in a ditch. “Can’t you use a stunning spell or something?”

Kenma huffs, glancing behind them quickly. “My mana generates slow. I used it on you.”

Kuroo curses. He tugs them behind a giant bush, allowing them to catch their breaths for a second. The loud pounding footsteps of the beast approaches, and they stare at each other in dismay. The knight unsheathes his sword, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, you can still cast defense, yeah?”

Kenma bites his lip, checking his stats. He nods once.

“Well, this is short notice, and I’m hella tired, but I don’t want to die here tonight.” Kuroo hefts his sword, turning to face the monster shuffling behind the bush, trying to locate them with its giant snout. “Cover me the best you can, Kenma, and I’ll buy you a drink later, okay?”

“I don’t drink.”

Kuroo spares him an amused glance. “Fine then. How about food?”

“... Apple pie.”

“Deal.”

“Don’t die.”

“That’s up to you, mage.”

Kuroo launches himself out behind the bush, summoning his flame skill. Kenma peeks out. The knight managed to catch the bearboar in the back, dealing a quick blow to its side. But the bearboar isn’t a B class for nothing. The monster quickly turns, rearing its head, snarling at Kuroo. It lifts its giant paws to swat at the knight, roaring in a deafening manner. Kenma claps his hands to his ears, but Kuroo doesn’t even flinch. He leaps back into action, dodging the paws and striking at the bearboar’s flank. Kenma is impressed that the knight manages to land so many hits, but the bearboar doesn’t even seem to register the attacks.

Kenma blinks, fixing his golden eyes on the monster. He raises his staff, calling on his observe skill. He only has enough power to use it for a few seconds, but it’s enough.

Kuroo falls back, barely managing to escape a giant paw. His mana is nearly out, and his stamina is nowhere near good. He breathes heavily, but then a slow warmth is spreading through his body. He glances up. “Kenma?”

Kenma isn’t looking at him, but his arms are raised in casting position. His golden eyes remain fixed upon the monster, which is glaring down at the two of them, ready to attack again. The mage sucks in a breath. His magic can last just enough, if he works fast.

“Kuro!” he shouts, diminishing his healing circle. “I have a plan!”

The knight blinks at the shortening of his name. He grins. “Bring it on, Kenma!”

“Its hind paws. They don’t move. As long as you attack from the front, keep it distracted, I can find a way to reach the back of its head.”

“That’s where its core is?”

“Yes!”

“Got it!” Kuroo lifts his sword, feeling a lot better than before. He can practically feel his magic powering back up through his veins. He bares his teeth at the bearboar. “Come at me, you ugly thing!”

Kenma inches back as Kuroo gets to work, taunting the monster and driving painful hits home upon the monster’s face and body. The mage moves as fast as his robes allow, until he is directly behind the bearboar’s butt. It’s not a pleasant view, but Kenma’s seen worse. He looks up. There it is. He raises his staff. Summoning what’s left of his mana, Kenma begins casting his best attack spell. He breathes, staring right at his target.

He shoots.

 

**[*]**

 

“Kenma!”

Kenma blinks his eyes open, only to see a mess of black hair and a blurry face. He closes his eyes again.

“Kenma, don’t go back to sleep!” There’s a finger poking at his cheek.

“Stop it.” Kenma swats the hand away, sitting up on his own. He blinks around him. They’re still in the forest clearing, only it’s a bit darker and there’s no monster in sight. “What happened?”

Kuroo grins at him. The knight holds up his hands to present him a blood red gem. “You did it, Kenma. You took down the bearboar.”

“I did?” Kenma accepts the gem, watching it disappear into his inventory.

“You passed out because your mana was empty, so I gave you a mana potion.”

Kenma nods his thanks, and then stops. He lifts his head to fix Kuroo his best deadpan expression. “You had extra mana potions.”

The knight scratches his head sheepishly. “I, uh, was caught up in the moment?”

Kenma stands up, reaching for his staff. “We’d better head back to town.”

“Yeah. Thanks for keeping me alive back there.”

“Mm.”

Kuroo grabs the mage’s hand before he can walk further. “Kenma. Join me.”

Kenma stares at him. “What.”

“Join me! Let’s build a guild together!” Kuroo grins, producing the gold horn once more. “I’ve got enough items and we’re both good. Come on, you were there against that monster, we make a good team. Let’s build a guild together, Kenma!”

Kenma stares some more. His cheeks are warm. How brilliant can this knight’s smile be? He’s a knight, not a bard. Slowly, he tugs his hand away. “... Are you proposing to me?”

Kuroo grins.

Together, they head back to town.


	11. maybe i fell in love when you woke me up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Kuroo wakes Kenma up, and one time Kenma returns the gesture.
> 
> [prompt: free day!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> free day?? more like fluff day!!
> 
> title from ed sheeran's wake me up
> 
> warnings: sleepy kuroken going to steal your heart. dealing with nightmare at one point? mention of alcohol/drinking

_i. age six_

His bedroom door slams open, probably creating a new crater in the wall, and Kenma jumps violently in his bed. All traces of previous sleep is thrown out the window.

“Kenmaaaa! Wake up!”

In his doorway stands a boy with wild messy hair, as if he just rolled out of bed himself. The boy grins at him, baring his teeth, and Kenma cowers underneath his blankets.

“Rise and shine, Kenma, it’s time to play!”

Kenma shakes his head, pulling his covers over himself again. He hopes Kuro will just go away if he hides long enough.

The next thing he knows, his blankets are forcefully yanked off his bed. Kenma makes an upset sound, but doesn’t resist. Kuro’s already sticking his hand in his face, smiling widely.

“Let’s go, Kenma.”

Kenma sighs, but obliges.

 

 

_ii. third grade_

Kenma’s face scrunches at the feeling of somebody’s finger poking at his cheek. His eyes stubbornly refuse to open.

A soft, smirking voice whispers above him. “Kenmaaaa~ I know you’re awake.” The poking returns, more prominent than before.

Kenma swats half heartedly at the offending finger, to no avail. He pretends he doesn’t care for another minute, before Kuro’s poking finger becomes an annoying, patting hand on his face. He opens his eyes, frowning at his friend.

“Good morning!”

Kenma pushes his friend off him, yawning. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, the different ceiling, the change in furniture, the ridiculous clutter. He slept over at Kuro’s again.

The said boy squats next to him, already changed and looking more awake than his permanent bedhead should allow. “Ma’s making breakfast. After that, we should go to the park to practice more volleyball, okay?”

Kenma sighs. “Do we have to.”

“Yes, Kenma. Volleyball, and then your games, okay?” Kuro stands, then reaches out a hand. “Wakey wakey, Kenma.”

Kenma takes his hand.

 

 

_iii. middle school_

Kenma wakes to hands desperately shaking him out of his messy, horrible, dark dark dream. His own hands are wildly clutching at another warm body sitting up next to his bed, a half-familiar voice murmuring beside his ear, calming him down slowly. He gasps for air, blinking his eyes open to the dimness of his own room, with a guest futon laid out on the floor next to him. And Kuro, kneeling beside his bed, arms around him, telling him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare.” He doesn’t even remember what his dream was about, only that it terrified him, and he doesn’t want to go back. He clenches his fists into Kuro’s shirt.

“Hey, hey,” the older boy murmurs, patting his head softly. “Are you okay?”

Hesitantly, Kenma nods. He makes no move to extricate himself from his friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kenma shakes his head no.

“Okay. Do you want to share my futon?”

Kenma nods.

Kuro’s hand take hold of his own slightly smaller ones, still trembling slightly at the rushing of his heart, and they sink down together into Kuro’s futon. The slowly fading warmth from where the older boy had vacated it in a panic to reach a frightened, choking Kenma is replaced by two warm bodies, fitted together like Tetris blocks, hands still clasped tight in an anchoring comfort.

 

 

_iv. training camp_

Kenma’s mind comes back into consciousness in a sluggish manner, like trickling water in a summer heat wave. His back is suddenly warm, too warm. He opens his eyes, but his view is blocked by his DS that he was playing before sleep overtook him. He shuffles in his futon, quietly so as not to disturb his teammates. His tired eyes can just make out messy hair and sharp features on the pillow next to him.

“Kuro?”

The older boy looks at him apologetically. “Sorry I woke you.”

Kenma shakes his head slightly. He shuffles backwards, allowing more room for his captain and his longer limbs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Kenma nods once, eyes blinking slowly. He turns again, back facing Kuro, but keeps his body just close enough to touch. A moment later, he feels a familiar arm sliding across his waist. He sighs, but leans backwards into his friend’s hold just the same.

When he next blinks open his eyes, the room is too bright and there are too many faces peering down at him and is that a camera flashing----

 

 

_v. college party_

There’s an insistent nudging at his side. Kenma shifts, trying to ignore it, to return back to that warm floaty sensation he was drifting off to, his head all hazy and light. Then, a hand is shaking his shoulder, and reluctantly, he cracks his eyes open.

“Kenma. Wake up. Come on.” A mess of wild black hair. Sharp eyes. Concern. Familiar. Kuro.

“Hi, Kuro.”

“Yeah, hi. Come on, Kenma, let’s get you up. You’ve had too much to drink, hadn’t you?”

Two strong hands are pulling him to his feet, where he sways and warbles out a complaint. He’s not drunk, he’s just a bit tipsy. His eyes can’t seem to focus, the room tilts dangerously. Okay, maybe a lot tipsy.

“Sorry, Kuro,” he mumbles, leaning against his friend as they make their way across the room, carefully avoiding stepping on other human beings.

“Nah, it’s a party. You weren’t the designated driver, so you might as well have fun, eh? You have fun?”

Kenma starts to nod, and then stops, because that made his head hurt. He tugs on Kuro’s sleeve. “Shouyou.”

“Kageyama’s got him, don’t worry.”

Kenma hums. He follows Kuro out the door, walking slowly so he doesn’t fall on his face. He did that before he fell asleep. He thinks. Maybe he should fall asleep again. He’s tired. And warm. And floaty.

“Come on, Kenma. Let’s get you home.”

Kenma reaches out his hand. Kuro takes it.

 

 

_et i. apartment 015_

For once, Kenma wakes before Kuro does. He sits quietly, after checking his phone for messages. Kuro is still sprawled on his side, pillows strewn across their bed haphazardously. Kenma stares down at his friend’s face, all familiar angles and relaxed in dreaming. He reaches out, slowly, fingers outstretched.

“Mmmf.” Kuro’s brows scrunch up, just the slightest bit, as Kenma’s fingers trace up his cheekbones. Then his face relaxes again.

Kenma smiles slightly. He continues to trace the older’s face, over the proud nose, the high forehead, the softer-than-they-look lips. He leans down, placing his own lips over them.

Kuro wakes slowly, like melting chocolate over vanilla ice cream. His body is already responding to Kenma before his mind is clear of fog, and his hands frame the smaller’s face in a gesture so familiar and so intimate they both pull back, breaths mingling. Kuro smiles. Kenma smiles down at him, and for a moment they just lie next to each other, all soft grins and glowing contentment.

If this is what it’s like to wake up from now on, he doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @puddingcatbae  
> twitter @puddingcatbae


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